Rule of the Sith
by CarnivorousBookworm25
Summary: 1000 years before the destruction of the Death Star. The galaxy was fractured. With hyperdrive in its infancy, the known galaxy was presided over by powerful sorcerers known as Sith. Where these Dark Lords ruled misery and misfortune reined, enforced by their armies of Jedi Knights. However, on the distant planet Ossus, one boy was about to meet destiny and change a galaxy's fate.
1. Crawl

Star Wars

Episode 0.1

Rule of the Sith

Across the galaxy, the thirteen ruling houses of the Sith conquer and dominate all they set their eyes upon. Backed by the unassailable might of their Jedi Knights, these thirteen warlords and their heirs, bring death and ruin upon those they subjugate, as they each secretly struggle to supplant their fellow Sith Lords in power and influence. Only one thing keeps the galaxy from erupting into war.

O'Vryss, reigning Lord of House Darth, looms over his fellow Sith Lords, an oppressive shadow promising death and ruin to any House that would dare challenge his place as head of the Sith Order.

But O'Vryss is no longer a young man, and the threat of his power is soon to fade. Sensing their time near at hand, Lord Soa, head of House Lehon, and Lady Zannah, head of House Aldera have begun maneuvering their forces to oppose House Darth, and its Lord-to-be, Malgus.

In anticipation of the coming coup, the ten minor houses of Sith Lords have begun pledging their support to each of the three great houses. Only Kyze, ruling house of the Auril Sector, has yet to declare for one house or another, as Lord Tion first seeks to strengthen his own position before making his intentions known…


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Father," complained Nelix, shouting against the driving wind and sands of Ossus. "Why are we doing this? Can't I just pick a crystal from the stockpile and be done?"

Tion rounded on his son and flung out his hand. Sand and wind alike froze in mid-air as the Sith Lord glared down upon his heir. The boy was weak, undisciplined, Tion hated the very sight of him, he should have done away with him long, like so many that had come before. He lashed and seized the boy. Using only his will he lifted his apprentice into the air, paralyzing him.

Terror spilled forth from his son in ever greater waves of despair, as the boy came to realize the error of his complaint. The sheer magnitude of Nelix's fear disgusted Tion. The Sith Lord's anger turned to rage. Slowly, he began to crush the life from his son, as the boy flailed out with his own power, in a desperate attempt to preserve his miserable existence. The effort was wasted. Gripped by such uncontrollable panic, the boy's power hardly brushed against the iron will encasing him. Pathetic. Indeed, a new heir was called for.

Tion drew his blade.

The scarlet gem embedded in the hilt pulsed with his power. He lifted his sword. The silver-blue steel glowed red as he imbued the blade with his anger and strength.

Nelix's azure eyes widened.

There was bound to be a woman on this miserable rock suitable for mating. In years' time, he would have a new heir—a suitable heir—one fit to carry the banner of House Kyze into the next age of the Sith.

His blade fell.

Only a year…

His sword froze a hair's breadth from the boy's nose.

At eight-seven, Tion was no longer a young Lord, fresh from the assassination of his father. With the other Houses preparing for war, could he really afford to do away with another apprentice so late in his life? Did he dare he risk meeting even the weakest of his fellow Lords on the battlefield without an apprentice by his side, to serve as a shield?

The red aura surrounding his blade faded.

Like it or not, for the time being Tion was stuck with his weakling progeny.

Regretfully, he released the boy.

Nelix fell to the ground, a crumpled trembling mass, before Tion's feet. Disgraceful. Thankfully his father, Lord Pallon, had been limited in his intuition, fore if he had even glimpsed the sorry state of heirs Tion had thus far produced, the late head of Kyze family would have killed Tion before he could uttered his first, newborn cry.

"Get up," he ordered.

Nelix kept trembling.

Tion kicked him in the ribs. "Get up, or I'll finish what I started."

It was no idle threat, and Nelix knew it. Although, Tion had just decided that he did in fact need such a sniveling excuse for a son, that would not stop him from starting anew, should his apprentice ever prove himself incapable of following the simplest of orders—regardless of the circumstances.

The boy rose, on unsteady feet. Tion took in the quavering sight of his son with revulsion. Only twelve years old and already the boy stood near to eye, with Tion himself. Such a pity that a coward's heart lay within such a physically promising specimen. Tion shook his head. Well, perhaps he would get lucky and his miserable excuse for son would discover his manhood sooner rather than later, and then Tion would be able to keep his shield, while raising a potential grandchild and hopefully worthy successor.

He gave Nelix one last, critical, look then turned back to the march.

The punishing wind and flaying sands hit the young lordling like a hammer. He sensed the boy stagger, as the sandstorm tried to lift Nelix into the unrelenting air. Tion shook his head. Shameful. Absolutely shameful. Why had the _Force_ deigned to disgrace House Kyze so?

When he finally sensed Nelix gather himself and resume their journey, an unexpected optimism filled Tion's mind. Perhaps some good _would_ come from today's efforts. The hidden caverns were not far ahead, maybe, just maybe he would send the boy in, only to never have him emerge. Should such a thing come to pass, then Tion would take it as a sign that his next child would indeed be the heir House Kyze had long since deserved.

The pleasant thought, brought a smile to old Lord's weathered face.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

With one hand, Daeus held his cloak high, shielding his face against the punishing sand, with the other, he steadied the cloth's ragged edge, lest the unrelenting wind rip him from his feet. He tried, in vain, to see through the swirling chaos of the storm, desperately hoping to spot some outcropping of rock, or petrified tree, that he could shelter beneath, until the sandstorm finally abated. But through the scratched up lens of his goggles, nothing could be seen.

He slumped forward.

How had it come to this? Cast out and left to do die, all because the chieftain's nephew had forgotten to secure the yaksa pen, three nights before. It wasn't fair! D'naya had always hated him. The conniving little jhorp had probably left the pen open on purpose, hoping he could blame Daeus for the yaksas' escape. If he ever saw that muktar's face again…

Who was he kidding. He would never see the O'gwali people again, much less D'naya. By the Jesu, he had been lucky the Ysanna had agreed to take him, a human child, in four years ago. If not for their kindness, he would already be dead.

Still the sting of being banished, all because of one youth's pettiness, hounded his every step. And all because he could wield the ancient magics better than the pompous would be heir to the O'gwali tribe.

He shook his head.

That was not the reason for his pain. True be sent away was painful, but the true depths of his torment came when no one, not a single O'gwali, including his raynto, Nissa, had spoken on his behalf. Everyone in the village knew he was innocent of the oversight that D'naya had been charged with the yaksas' care the previous night but none would dare speak out against K'ma's chosen successor, not while the great chieftain was away on the hunt. None but Daeus that was. And it was for _that_ crime alone that the Council saw fit to set him upon the waste to die, doomed to be some muktar's next meal—well, he hoped the scale-less bird choked on his bones, then, at least, some good might come from this injustice.

Morbid though it was, the idea that in his death, he might kill one of the loathsome scavengers, lightened Daeus' spirit. He smiled, hunched his shoulders, and continued his trek north, where he knew lay a small canyon that would afford him some shelter, and perhaps even a stagnant pool of water, hidden at the bottom of some narrow crevice. At least he hoped he was still moving north, such things were impossible to tell during even a mild storm, without a tribal crystal acting as a fixed point, and he had long since moved beyond the range of the O'gwali stone.

One mile, then two, disappeared beneath his feet, with nothing resembling the northern mountain country coming into view. With each new step, his hope dwindled, stripped away by the shifting sand and barren earth around him, until at last Daeus stumbled and fell.

He lay on the ground, scarcely moving, while the sand slowly consumed him. In the deepest recesses of his heart, Daeus wondered how long it would take for the merciless winds to entomb him. Would he die first, from thirst and hunger, or would he meet his fate within the crushing blackness of the Waste? Buried alive, he thought, would be better, if more terrifying, than the latter. Death would come to him sooner beneath the sand. If he lingered above the ground, sustained by the meager water and few bites of goffan meat, still within his pack, then a pack of raeshdan or some muktar might find him before he could slip into the next world—death from being eaten alive would be much worse than death by burial.

A rock caromed off his shoulder. The burst of pain pulled him away from his deadly thoughts. Anger at the offending stone flooded his mind, before he realized what he was doing. He rolled over, cast forth his will, and seized the bounding piece of earth. His magic flowed with the rock, followed its haphazard course through the air and wind. He guided it up, higher until he held it suspended against the forces of nature and gravity, then with a violent explosion of will and power he hurled the stone downward, burying several feet in the ground, where it would no longer be able to do harm.

Shame filled him. To use the ancient magic in anger, the O'gwali council was right to have banished him. Such blasphemy, he was not worthy to live among the Ysanna—even one such as D'naya possessed more grace than he. If he possessed any honor, he would reach out to the stone and use it to end his life.

However, his anger had been so sudden, so absolute, that he had lost track of the rock, the second he fired it into the ground.

He extended his mind, probing for the aggrieved object to no avail, and all around him, he could sense no other rock suitable for ending his shame. The lamshee, in the pouch at his side, would easily do the job, but he dare not compound his shame by using one the sacred hunting stones to end his life.

That was when he sensed it—not a stone—but the unmistakable pulse of a tribal crystal. It was faint, and felt nothing like the calm, reassuring presence of the O'gwali stone, but it was there. It was close.

The tide of hope he felt, washed away all ideas of shame and suicide. If he rose now, and followed the pulse of the crystal, he would live. If he did not, Daeus would die. Instinct took over.

Daeus rose, stumbling west.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nelix's emotions were still a jumbled mess, when he and his father finally reached the spired plateau that marked the entrance to their family's hidden mine. The gateway to the underground cavern, was little more than a slit between two fallen boulders, eternally warring for the right to sleep upon the ground.

Nelix stared up at the rocky outcropping, a menacing shadow against the blinding chaos of the wind-blown sand, and shivered. Normally, such an imposing mound of earth and stone would harbor a clan of Ysanna, an ancient and barbaric race of Force wielders, whom often chose to slaughter outsiders rather risk someone discovering their secrets. But there would be no such peoples here. The forbidding mountain was little more than a speck on the flat and desolate landscape of the Waste. Only orbital imaging, and his family's strong connection with the Force, had allowed his family to discover the hidden treasure buried deep below the fortress of rock.

Tion turned to him.

The aged Sith Lord's dark, terrifying eyes cut through him like a blade. The terror, which had literally gripped him earlier, returned. Nelix wanted to run from those eyes, hide from them, if he could, but such an act would be suicide. Tion was perhaps the strongest force-user ever born into House Kyze, and certainly one of the five deadliest beings existing in the known galaxy. Only the leaders of the three great houses, and perhaps Rallick, lord of House Moff—himself an oddity amongst the lower houses, like Tion—wielded more power and influence over the Force than Nelix's own _beloved_ father. To displease Tion a second time, in the same day, would be a deadly mistake.

So Nelix held his ground, and kept tight rein on his fear, lest his Lord decide to finish what he had begun.

"You understand why we are here?" growled Tion.

No, but for fear of death, Nelix replied, "Yes," anyway.

"You know what you must do?"

He knew that he was expected to travel down into the depths of the mountain, seeking out a new crystal for his blade. He knew that his father expected him to return with a gem of supreme quality, despite the fact that they had an entire vault dedicated to just such crystals back on Lianna. And he knew that if he failed to bring back such a prize, his father would kill him, without a second's hesitation. What he could not grasp, though, was why?

No other Sith house put their heirs through such nonsense. In fact, each ruling family owed most of their crystals to House Kyze's generosity. Only the great red crystals were an exception. Those perfect gemstones could not be found in nature, rather they had to be forged, by their users, through power and sheer will—the final step in an apprentice's journey, and proof he or she had risen to the rank of Sith. As far as Nelix was concerned, without his family's crystals, every force-user in the galaxy would still be relying upon twigs, bones, or other similarly useless trinkets. Which is why it made no sense for Tion to send him down some dark hole, on some isolated desert planet, to find a new crystal. If his father really thought he needed one, he should be allowed to pick from his family's stockpile, just like every other apprentice in the galaxy.

"I will do as you have bidden, Father," Nelix replied.

"Of course you will," said Tion, stepping away from the cavern entrance. "May the Force be with you, my son."

And with his father's blessing, Nelix plunged into the waiting darkness.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bad manners though it was, Daeus threw himself against the wall of rock, grateful to have finally found a place he might wait out the storm. Surely, there would be sentries stationed nearby watching him, but after having seen him walk through the heart of a raging sandstorm, he hoped they would understand his lapse in manners.

Wanting to collapse where he stood, but knowing it would be a mistake, Daeus sidled his way along the rocky outcrop, searching for some crevice or grotto he might use for a shelter. If indeed there were sentries lurking nearby, there would be one or two holes carved out for a strange to shelter in. However, after spending a few minutes searching, and finding none of the signs that might mark a public shelter, Daeus decided his best option was to set up a tent on a nearby ledge of rock.

The climb was simple enough. The ledge was really only small platform that stood a few feet higher than the desert floor. By itself, the small shelf was hardly an ideal place to camp, but once he had driven a few spikes in the rock, and tied off his yaksa hide, he would be safe enough, until the storm past.

Reaching his chosen location, Daeus shrugged off his pack and pulled out a few metal spikes, along with his patchwork yaksa hide and hammer. Using his back to block out the worst of the wind, he laid everything on the ground. Hefting the hammer, he set a spike at a slightly downward angle, against the wall, and struck. The hardened steel bit deep, wedging itself into the stone with little effort—another two strikes and the spike was set. Daeus repeated the process another three times, setting one spike level with the first and two more at the base of the wall itself. Within a few moments, all that remained to do, was set two more spikes into the ground, away from the wall and tie down his leather. The shelter would be small—his yaksa hide had been discarded pieces he salvaged and stitched together from the towchyur's scrap pile—but it would protect him nonetheless.

Placing the spike, Daeus swung his hammer again. Steel rang against steel, in a muted clang. Tremors racked his arms. The spike shuttered within his grip. And the ground smiled up at him, unscarred.

His eyes narrowed. He was in no mood to be mocked by yet another piece of stone. Loosening his shoulders, he hammered away, determined to set the spike he needed to anchor his yaksa hide to the ground, and each time the stony surface refused to give way.

After nearly a dozen swings, and little in the way of results, Daeus' patience reached its end. Exhausted and frustrated, he seized the spike with his mind, took the hammer in both hands, and delivered a reckless two-handed strike that sent splinters of rock flying through the air. If any Ysanna saw his unrestrained anger, he would be dead before the storm ended; however, seeing the spike buried a quarter of an inch into the stone, Daeus could not help but grin. Three more times he repeated his two-handed swing before finally deciding the spike was set. Now, only one spike remained.

Not certain he possessed the strength to drive home another spike, and having already broken magical law half a dozen times, Daeus began summoning his will. Steadying the steel, he consolidated all the magic he could muster behind the spike's rounded head. When he felt his will come into line with his focus, Daeus released a thunderclap of power straight down. The magic slammed into the spike with such force, the ground beneath it shattered. He had time enough for one thought, before the shelf upon which he sat fell away into the abyss: "I've got a bad feeling about this."

And he was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Another dead end. For the thousandth time, he wondered why his father had sent him on this fool's errand. In near darkness, he had explored more than half a dozen passages, supposedly searching for some crystal that awaited him, only to have to turn around and start over.

Had previous generations of Sith really wandered aimlessly through this labyrinth, the same as he?

Nelix shook his head. He doubted it. Tion had probably just sent him down here to die. He could almost picture it. His father warm and safe inside their star cruiser, grinning devilishly, as he celebrated the successful elimination of yet another disappointing successor.

Why hadn't the old man just finished the deed while they were trudging through that sandstorm?

"Probably because he didn't want to go to the trouble of cleaning my blood from his blade," answered Nelix, responding to his own unspoken question.

He despised being Sith. The hatred. The cruelty. The incessant need for more power. It was all so pointless. Why live if you could never be happy with what you had? To constantly have to try and acquire something you already possessed a thousand times over? If he managed to forestall his father's sword, yet again, he would do everything he could to outlive the old tyrant, so that he might forge a destiny, for himself and House Kyze. After all, between Lianna's great shipyards and his family's secret knowledge of Adega crystals, he had the resources to try and build something of true worth—a legacy later generations of his family could be proud of. He just needed to survive.

And right now, survival meant finding a new crystal for his sword.

But where?

The secret caverns of his family were supposed to be the richest source of Adega crystals in existence. The house archives described these tunnels as a veritable horde, where a Sith could not take a step without tripping over a gem of surpassing quality. Yet each time he stumbled, it was over a loose piece of pitted rock or another rippling lip of volcanic floor.

Where were all the crystals?

Nelix knew what he needed to do, and the thought frightened him.

Clearing his mind, Nelix began honing his focus. He needed to be careful, with what he was about to do. Even though he had yet to see a gem, from the moment he had passed through that narrow gap in the boulders outside, he could not help but be aware of the intense connection between the Force and these catacombs. In this place, if his focus faltered for even a second, and the Force's aura was malevolent, he could lose himself to the overwhelming influence of the surrounding ether.

Taking one last, steadying breath, Nelix extended his mind out into the surrounding rock. Rather than seeking for the crystals he was certain existed, he focused all of his attention on the nature of the Force, as it moved through him. To his relief, the whirling power that permeated the very air he breathed was benign. An untainted source of power, the Force cared not that he was here, or what his intentions might be. He was a gnat compared to whatever held the power's attention.

Confident it was safe to probe about, Nelix expanded his senses. He brought his mind into harmony with the rippling energy circulating through the vast network of tunnels. He flittered across the waves of power, following along as the Force sped deeper into the planet, intent on something far below. Until at last, the wave upon which his mind rode, erupted into a sea of stars, so intense, so dazzling that he could not comprehend just what he had found.

Overwhelmed by the beauty his mind had discovered, he let himself be swept up by the beauty of each individual star. One moment, he was examining a faint green dwarf, the next he was blinded by the white hot intensity of a blue giant. Then he was gazing into the depths of a small but haunting emerald, before being ripped apart by the kaleidoscopic hues of radiant sapphire.

On and on his mind sailed, jumping from one green spark to another blue flash. Occasionally, his gaze lingered, as a new color came alive before his eyes: yellow, perhaps orange, even one or two shades of violet.

He would have been content to spend the rest of his life searching every star in the sea, but a thundering crash and brief burst of wind snapped his mind back into his body.

"What was that?"

He froze in the darkness. Straining his ears for any sign of what had made such a noise. Was there something living down here? He shook his head. He had detected no lifeforms residing within the tunnels, nor had there ever been a mention of anyone or thing, living anywhere near this place in the archives.

Had a section of the caves collapsed?

Perhaps. Past Lords had made mention of routes that they once traveled, which later seemed to have vanished. One or two, had posited a theory that the Force itself opened and closed tunnels, based on the needs of each individual as he or she sought out their _specific_ crystal. But no map had ever been kept to corroborate such outlandish claims, nor had any sane member of House Kyze ever given credence to such ludicrous theories.

Still, the area in which he stood had once been the site of a small, active volcano. It was reasonable to believe unstable areas of tunnel must exist. Maybe one such section had given way, while he was exploring the massive collection of crystals further below. Such a thing was certainly possible, and in all likelihood probable. He just hoped that if such a collapse had occurred that it had not sealed off any vital section of tunnel—such as a way down to the crystals or, just as importantly, his way back to the surface.

Silently he pleaded: "Please let one of the dead end paths be the one that got sealed."


End file.
